


The bright future of the Revolution

by alinewrites



Category: Blake's 7
Genre: M/M, Mpreg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-14
Updated: 2012-04-14
Packaged: 2017-11-03 15:35:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/383038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alinewrites/pseuds/alinewrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>OMG! I wrote Mpreg. Of the angsty kind thought.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The bright future of the Revolution

"So this is it," Blake said, raising the baby to eye height, "the abomination. It is very small."

Avon closed his eyes. "Big enough for me, thank you very much."

"Yes. I know."

"No. You don't. How could you?"

Blake sat down on the edge of the bed, the baby nestled in his arms making small noises of contentment.

"How do you feel, Avon?" Blake asked, keeping the concern he felt out of his voice, aware that Avon would not be able to deal with emotion at the moment.

"Relieved. This... masquerade lasted long enough. I don't think I could have taken it one more day."

Blake noticed how Avon avoided looking at the baby, keeping his eyes stubbornly closed. Indifferent? He had always loathed the idea of it; now he was ready to loathe the thing itself. But when Blake moved brusquely, the baby started to cry again; a strange ear-piercing shriek – Avon's eyes opened, full of worry. Ah. Not so indifferent, then.

"Sorry," Blake said.

"Put her down."

Blake did, laying the baby against Avon's naked flank. Avon lay his hand protectively over the tiny body. The cries turned to soft moans and then a blissful silence.

"Impressive," Blake said. "I suppose your presence soothes her." That earned him a contemptuous glare. Shrugging it away, he asked, "We should give her a name, I suppose. Do you have any ideas?"

Avon opened his eyes again and stared at him. "No. You'll have to find something."

Blake ran a finger along the minuscule face – the baby turned to the touch and tried to suck on it.

"She's hungry," Blake said while a small hungry mouth fastened on his thumb.

"For God's sake, Blake, stop this! I cannot feed a child! Cally said she'd find the right food to give her. So please... Just go away and take her with you!"

Blake ran a careful finger along the baby's cheek, took her in his arms and left.

Cally and Vila were waiting for him outside. "I ran some tests," Cally said. "She's fully human. Congratulations."

Blake shrugged. "What for? I don't feel like I did anything. Avon is the one to congratulate – if only you dare."

Cally laughed. "I'll think about it."

Vila followed Blake on the flight deck. "Among the deltas, there is a tradition..."

Jenna rolled her eyes. "Somehow, I have the feeling that this tradition implies lots of alcoholic beverages," she said.

"It is a very respectable tradition, you know. Like every tradition, it actually involves alcohol."

Blake smiled. "I don't feel like drinking. But there's a bottle in my room I saved for special occasions; I suppose this is one. I'll bring some to Avon."

While the others drank and laughed, Blake sat down on the couch. I am a father, he thought. This tiny little human is my child, I made it – well, with Avon – although I don’t know how it could happen. To his surprise, he felt tears roll down his cheeks.

-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-

_9 months ago..._

It had happened suddenly – a sudden shock, like a collision or the impact of a missile and Avon had stumbled, clutching at Blake for balance before falling helplessly, pulling Blake down with him. Everything had vanished and he had sunk in a mindless darkness.

When he woke up, everything was normal. He was lying close to Blake who was also waking up.

"What happened?" Blake asked accusingly, glaring at him.

"How would I know?" Avon answered, yawning with sudden exhaustion, his limbs heavy and liquid. "Probably something Zen will explain."

But Zen had no explanations and Orac could only come up with some tale about time distortion. "Not quite up to your standard, Orac," Blake told him mockingly.

"I shall endeavour to find a valid explanation if only you give me some time to work on it," Orac answered coldly.

"You do that, Orac. Avon, run a global system check. Jenna, Cally, make sure there's nothing wrong with the teleport. Vila and I will inspect the decks for anything suspect."

They found nothing. The only visible but probably unrelated effect during the following days was Avon's strange mood, a new slowness in his movements, an obvious lack of bite to his words, as if he was still plunged in the other dimension the Liberator had collided with.

They forgot. One or two brutal encounters with the Federation damaged the Liberator more badly than expected and sent that brief moment of aberration into oblivion.

Until the day Avon summoned Blake in the medical unit. "Sit down," he said sternly.

Blake obeyed, noticing how pale Avon was, his skin almost white against the uncompromising dark leather that encased him from neck to toe, his eyes shining with something akin to anger. Desperation maybe. Hell, what was it about?.

"Something happened. To me. Probably during this... time distortion Orac was so evasive about."

Blake frowned. "Are you ill?"

An incongruous weary smile played on Avon's lips for a scant second. "I don't think you can call pregnancy an illness."

The world froze for a second around Blake as he processed the words, staring blankly at Avon's face.

"You are pregnant," he said stupidly, hoping against all odds that Avon would disabuse him, laugh at him, say something cutting about Blake's dull-wittedness. Instead of that Avon just nodded.

"How the hell... How did it happen?" he asked, trying to keep from losing his mind. Avon. Pregnant. "You're a man. You're not supposed to become pregnant." For a second he wondered if it was possible that Avon was in fact a woman in disguise. Of course not; he had felt Avon's body against his often enough.

"Congratulations for your perspicacity," Avon said. "I am indeed a man. Orac thinks it happened during that short period of unconsciousness, ten days ago. He says it is due to some... alien intervention."

Blake swallowed hard. "An alien did this to you?"

Avon laughed joylessly. "No. The genetic tests I ran are quite clear: _You_ did this to me."

Incredulous, Blake read the results of the tests again and again until he was able to face the situation hidden behind the words. Taking a deep breath, he looked back up at Avon. "Now what?" he asked.

"I want to be rid of it," Avon said.

"Well, abortion is possible, I suppose," Blake said. 

Avon glared at him. "No."

"No?" That was confusing. Blake did not like the idea of abortion but he would not have thought that it would disturb Avon.

"I have no moral scruples about it, believe me," Avon said, answering Blake's thoughts, "but since I do not possess the right... equipment to evacuate it naturally, it will require surgery and Orac is not sure it is safe." 

"And why should it be safer to remove the child when it comes to term?" Blake asked.

Avon smiled indulgently. "Orac refused to supply details and the few ones he did supply are far beyond your limited comprehension. Let’s just say that any attempt to remove the baby now would endanger my own life. I won’t take such a risk." 

No abortion then. Blake felt oddly relieved but knew better than to show it. "So what? You carry it until term and abandon it somewhere?"

"Not _anywhere_ , Blake. We have to find a safe and quiet place."

Blake laughed. "Safe and quiet, huh? Finding such a haven will occupy you for the nine months to come, at last." Then a thought occurred to him: what would happen if Servalan heard of this? It did not bear thinking about. He shook himself. "We should stop calling it... it."

"Why? Does it bother you that much? ? I'll tell you Blake. You are not the one forced to carry this... parasite for almost a year. You are not the one who will be... vivisected to remove it. So you had better shut up. I'll call it what I want. I can still stab myself and end this... monstrosity."

And Avon would probably do it in a fit of panicked anger. Blake could see the incipient loss of control in Avon's eyes and although he had never witnessed such a thing, he supposed it would have some very devastating effects. 

"Don't," he said softly. "I don't care much for the baby but I would be sorry to lose you."

Avon stared at him coldly then walked out of the room without a backwards glance. During the following days, he did not once mention his condition again and managed never to find himself alone with Blake. If the whole conversation had not been branded in Blake's mind, he could have thought he had imagined every word of it. Avon was aloof and cutting and most of the time absorbed in some work, barely seeming to notice anyone. Until one day he was slightly wounded during a Federation attack and ended in the medical unit where Cally proceeded to take care of him – and found out.

She came directly to Blake's cabin to confront him. "Did you know?" she asked Blake. 

"Actually I have known for some time but Avon wanted to keep it secret as long as possible."

She looked at him, frowning. "Are you... the father?"

"The tests say I am. Although I can hardly imagine how it could happen. I obviously missed all the fun."

Cally seemed to believe him. "I never heard of a pregnant man before," she mused. "Poor Avon. It must kill him."

Blake sighed. Hearing someone else talk about it made the situation somehow more real and much more depressing.

"I sedated Avon slightly," Cally said, "He was agitated and in pain from the wound. But the leg is not broken, so I sent him back to his cabin."

Blake refrained from asking if sedation was not a danger for the baby. Right now, there was no baby at all, he reminded himself; only a heap of cells not yet human-looking. He walked into Avon’s cabin and looked at the man lying on the bed: Avon looked as slim as usual and perfectly Avon-like. Blake glanced at Avon's waist.

"It doesn't show yet," Avon said in a slightly dreamy voice. "But it will and I have no idea how I shall deal with it."

It usually took more than a light sedative to get such a confession from Avon. "I wish I could help," Blake said, sitting on the edge of the bed.

"Well, you are useless, just like any father," Avon said. After a while, he asked, "Why me, Blake? Why me and not Jenna? Or Cally? Both of them would be so much better at that than me, not to mention the fact that they have the right anatomy."

Blake thought about it, looking at Avon. "Maybe there is no purpose in this, maybe it's just an accident. And if it's not, well, I suppose that they chose the finest specimen in the crew." 

Avon frowned, gave him a wary look. "Don't be stupid."

Sometimes Avon was so difficult to deal with. "I'm only telling the truth."

Avon laughed drowsily. "I didn't know you cared, Blake."

"Really? The way you constantly tease me, Avon, I would have thought you were perfectly aware of your effect on me."

Something shone briefly in Avon's gaze. Regret. Sadness. Shrugging, he averted his eyes and Blake understood that he was being dismissed. Rising, he gave Avon a last look and sighed. "I'll let you sleep. Call if you need anything."

***********************  
At some point, and although nothing had been officially said, everyone on the Liberator knew the truth about Avon's condition and tried very hard to behave as if there was nothing different. Jenna succeeded perfectly: she treated Avon with the same cutting coldness she had shown from the beginning on the London. Vila could not help glancing surreptitiously at Avon, checking for change every single hour, until Avon snapped at him. Cally watched him with tender worry – maybe that was what he hated most. One day though Avon came back from a mission with a limp, pale with pain, his left leg badly hurt. Cally led him to the medical unit and Blake sat down on the couch, feeling suddenly sick. He could not go on putting Avon in jeopardy; he had noticed that day during their escape how much slower Avon’s reactions were and how easily he tired. 

"Orac," Blake asked suddenly "I want you to find the quietest place possible for the Liberator. A place where we can spend some months without being harassed by the Federation."

Half an hour later Orac asked Zen to show on the screen the exact spot in the depths of the 4th quadrant where the Liberator would be left in peace.

Once the course was laid, Avon finally moved and rose from the couch. 

"Blake put the cause aside because of you, Avon," Vila said with a deceptively mild smile. "Isn't it nice of him?"

The answer came as a whiplash. "Our leader's sudden lucidity has nothing to do with me, Vila. He only did it to protect a parasite whose life is obviously more precious than ours."

Blake could not help it. "It is not a parasite! It is a questions of weeks before it is a human being!"

"It feeds on me, lives on me, grows inside me. Isn't it what parasites do?" Avon said.

"It is human and we did it together!"

Avon stood up abruptly. "Together?" He said. "This time the absurdity of the situation has reached the limit of what can be borne. I'll be in my cabin. I'd rather not see any of you for a while. Four months would do just fine."

When Avon was gone, Jenna turned to Blake. "You did it together?"

"What else can I say," Blake said, pleading for understanding. "Avon bears a child who is genetically mine. All right, it did not come out right. I did not mean to imply anything... sexual."

"Really?" Vila said. "What did you mean to imply then?"

"Nothing!"

Cally gave him a look of sheer exasperation. "Next time, if you imply nothing, I suggest that you say nothing."

Blake brooded in his cabin for three hours, sitting on his bed, looking down. It was late when he went to the kitchen for something to eat. Sighing, he grabbed some more food, the kind Avon seemed to like a lot lately, and walked up to Avon's cabin. "Avon. It's Blake. I'll be happy to apologize if only you let me in."

A cold laugh answered him. "Apologize from where you stand."

Blake sighed and rested his forehead against the door. "I never meant to say it like I did. What I meant is that I feel responsible for your condition. I am aware that I can't share the burden, but whatever I can do to keep you as well as possible, I shall. Your safety is more important than the cause." Blake was rather happy; he had managed not to mention the baby at all. 

"Nicely put, Blake," Avon said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "I suppose you win the right to walk into the sanctuary now."

Avon was ravenous. He ate what Blake had brought and gave Blake's dessert a covetous glance. "I'm always hungry," he said, sounding oddly surprised. Blake handed him the cake he had taken for himself and Avon ate it in silence, very much like a cat, Blake thought.

"I thought that pregnancy meant sickness," Blake said.

"Not in my case. I'm just feeling sleepy and hungry all the time."

Blake nodded. "I'll leave you alone, then." 

He had nearly reached the door when Avon said, "Blake. You might want to put me down somewhere. Get rid of me."

"Abandon you? In your condition? Are you mad, Avon? I would not leave anyone behind – and certainly not you." Blake turned and walked back to the bed, looking down at Avon. "If you want to rationalize it, Avon, try to imagine what would happen to you, and to us, and to the... parasite, if the Federation found you now." Blake crossed the room and slammed the door, shaking with anger. How could Avon think he would... Remembering Cally's words, he took a deep breath. Again he had been too rough, probably but Avon was so incomprehensible, sometimes... He thought of going back to Avon and apologizing but decided against it. There was time still to make things right – as right as things could be with Avon.

During the following weeks, as the crew settled into inactivity and boredom, Blake started to spend more and more of his free time – and he had a lot of that now – with Avon. When the baby – the parasite, as Avon persisted to call him – started to move and kick and let the world around know that he was alive and, well... kicking, Blake thought that Avon might lose his sanity. The reasons why it shook Avon so badly were beyond Blake's comprehension and probably beyond Avon's too. Blake understood quite well how disturbing the situation was but the level of Avon's panic at those outwards signs of life left him perplexed. The day Blake had to stop Avon from crashing his hands against the walls in frustrated rage at the idea of being... inhabited – lived on, that was the expression Avon used, his lips pursed in disgust – Blake held him for a long time. When the anger had deserted him, Avon let Blake guide him to the bed, loosen the black plain trousers he was wearing and run his hands in a soothing motion all over Avon's back. 

Blake expected to be kicked away. When Avon did not protest and Blake ran his thumbs along the knotted muscles of Avon's back in a slow movement for what felt like a long time, until the tremors in Avon's body receded and a long shiver ran along Avon’s skin, a heavy sigh escaping from his lips while his eyes closed.

It took Blake only minutes after that to realize that his thoughts had shifted to another field entirely, lust replacing compassion, and he stopped, blushing.

"Don't dare stop now," Avon said between clenched teeth. "don't even contemplate stopping."

So Blake went on, his caresses more and more daring, more and more strayed, and Avon started moaning very low every time Blake's hands reached a sensitive place. "I want you," Blake said, not believing his own words because it was something he had not even thought about before. "I want you so badly."

"Stop talking and do it, then. Although I am not sure I can be very helpful."

Blake hesitated. "Do you think it might be dangerous? Maybe we should ask Cally..."

"Do that and you’ll never walk through this door again."

In spite of the threats, Avon looked small like this, lying on his side, his hair mussed, his lashes lowered shadowing his eyes. Blake kissed him softly and Avon's lips parted under his, his tongue darting out to touch Blake's. Rolling on his back, he started to unbutton Blake's shirt before yanking down his trousers. Then he proceeded to pull his own sweater over his head, and Blake had to help him.

It was not what his fantasies had been filled with – passion and strength and a bruising grip on Avon’s body. It was not about tearing Avon’s defences apart and forcing him into the admission that he wanted Blake too. And Avon was not what he had expected either, holding him and moaning very low, his body warm and pliant, his skin shivering under Blake’s touch. Blake was careful to keep his hands off Avon’s inflated belly until Avon said, "It won’t bite". The encouragement prompted a whole world of new caresses and exploration, Avon rolling on his side again, spooning himself against Blake, his back against Blake’s chest, opening himself to whatever Blake felt like. Blake took him, and moved inside Avon where it was warm and tight and luscious. He closed his eyes, forcing himself not to pound savagely the offered body, until the urge for orgasm was far too strong and his thrusts grew hard and fast, his hand wrapped around Avon’s cock. They came with a lot of moaning and shouting. Avon was asleep almost immediately, and even Blake wiping the sweat off his body with a dry towel did not wake him up. Unwilling to leave, Blake splayed his hands on the taut skin of Avon’s belly. Twice he felt a swift movement under his palm and he smiled. "Hello," he said. "Pleased to meet you," hoping that Avon was deep enough in sleep and would not witness such a display of sickening sentimentality.

On the next evening, he found Avon lying on his bed wearing only loose trousers. When Blake sat on the mattress, uncertain of what he should do next, Avon shifted to make him some room and the matter was settled.

The Liberator spent the four following months in space, close to infinities that had never been explored, wandering from system to system, charting every new territory carefully, sailing the silent darkness where unknown stars twinkled, some already burnt out. Jenna and Cally took their jobs to heart, looking for habitable planets where humans would be able to live and prosper. Vila joined them sometimes but most of the time he spent hours played chess against Orac – and losing - or against Blake – and winning - every day. The only time Avon let him into his cabin, having agreed to play, Vila swore to himself that he would not come back. The sight of Avon being so quiet and distracted and almost gentle shook Vila badly. He had learnt to deal with Avon quite well; he was not ready to learn other ways – and he was not even able to look at Avon’s deformed midsection without blushing. While Vila was scheming a new way to shatter Avon’s defences and defeat his king, something he had done quite a few times already, Avon fell asleep on the bed, curled up among the comforters and Vila could do nothing but watch him, trying to reconcile the image of this tired pale man lying ungraciously, quite helpless, with the picture of the impervious alpha he half-liked, half-loathed. When he found that he could not, he left, resolved not to meet Avon again until he was quite himself again.

He met Blake outside Avon’s door. "Avon fell asleep," he said. "You alphas have no real resistance. My mother went to work until the day she gave birth to my little sister."

Blake raised an eyebrow. "Really? You told me once you were an only child." he said absently, looking worried. Vila shrugged and walked away to look for a drink.

So it went on for some weeks, until one night after sex, having let Blake make him thrash all over the bed in pleasure and cry out for more, Avon lay back, breathless. "I have thought of a place," he said. Blake turned his head and looked at him. "People to take care of the child," Avon added.

The child was not yet born, Blake thought. Could not that wait?

"That woman, Rashel, and your clone... Do you think they would agree?" 

Blake thought about it. A clone, obsessed with the necessity to protect life, a clone who was unable to father a child, and a woman, would maybe agree to be burdened with such a responsibility. Adoption had been quite usual, before, until the complicated system of grades and class made it nearly impossible. Among the alphas, some families still secretly resorted to it and it was a tradition among the lower grades to take care of children whose parents had died. It sounded like the right solution. Of course. Still, Blake hated the idea of abandoning his child and he would have said it maybe but he saw Avon’s gaze rest upon him, dark and perceptive. 

"I know what you are thinking," Avon said. "but we can’t keep it. You have a revolution to win and I have no such thing as parental instincts or educational skills. We are unable, although for different reasons, to raise a child. Admit it, you are not a father. Self-appointed heroes – or real ones – never are."

Avon was right, of course. It did not make him feel better, though. He had felt the same way when his mother, so long ago, had told him that they could not keep the stray puppy he had found and brought back home. She had been right but it had felt unfair nonetheless and Blake had cried for nights after that.

"Stop sulking, Blake," Avon said. "It is not like we ever wanted it."

Blake thought wiser to say nothing. What he gained from the situation – Avon’s pliancy in bed, his undisguised desire for Blake, was worth the effort.

:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:

At the end of the seventh month of pregnancy Avon was ready to punch anyone who would dare come to approach him – sometimes even Blake was not allowed inside his room. The Liberator prowled the far reaches of an unknown quadrant. Some days ago the crew had experienced an unpleasant encounter with unknown ships. Not Federation, not pirates and Zen had sounded very perturbed while Orac, claimed those ships to be of alien origin. Fighting back with Avon on board was out of question and Jenna had set a number of evasive courses to avoid the intruders. Suddenly, the safe haven was not safe any longer and Blake had made the choice to stay there, poised for flight, worried that the alien menace was more dangerous than the Federation. He had thought of warning central command but Avon, as incapacitated as he was, had threatened to eviscerate him if Blake so much as thought of sending a message. When the child would arrive – or better, when he was safe – Blake would do as he felt right, but for now, Avon forbid him to move. Blake had felt oddly touched. Not that he thought that Avon would change his mind about abandoning the child – Avon was right, they could not keep it – but at least he sounded concerned with the child’s safety. Avon might not like the idea of carrying a child but he was still feeling responsible enough to protect it while he could.

Avon was asleep in Blake’s arms when it happened, only hours before what passed for dawn on the Liberator. Avon wailed softly and woke up, eyes wide. "Get Cally," he said, shaking Blake out of his dreams. Blake grabbed his trousers and put them on before rushing out, hearing Avon moan loudly behind him while pain flared through him like a knife. It took minutes to ready the medical unit and carry Avon – Blake did that, sick with worry and stayed all the time it lasted. A minimal anaesthesia, the surgical intervention Cally performed skilfully, and the small, bloodied and already yelling human being, her fists clenched in rage, her small head covered with dark hair. Avon glanced at the baby and looked away, exhausted. He did not try to take the child or inspect the small body to check it out, trusting Cally to do it.

Somehow Avon must have noticed the baby was a girl and Blake wondered if a boy would have elicited another reaction. No. Avon had never showed more consideration – or lack thereof - to one sex than to another.

"Lay a course for Exara3 – if Orac is correct, this is where Rashel and the clone are. Avoid any meeting with any ship – Federation or otherwise," Blake told Jenna who obeyed swiftly, happy to be needed again.

For two weeks, Blake seldom left Avon and the child, although Avon tried repeatedly to send him away. While Avon slept, Blake carried the baby everywhere around the Liberator. He presented her to Jenna, who gave the child a slightly annoyed look and lost interest. Cally and Vila wanted to hold her but Blake was reluctant to let go and rarely allowed them more than a brief caress before taking her away from them. 

"She has blue eyes," Vila said.

"All babies have. It means nothing." Cally said. "I wonder who she will look like."

I’ll never know, Blake thought as the baby’s gaze seemed to take in everything and everyone. I won’t be there to see it. Help her when she needs me. 

Avon for his part displayed no sign of inner conflict. He silently tolerated the baby’s presence next to him: Avon's presence seemed to lull her into sleep; and Blake slept with them both just in case they needed something. Several times he woke up to find Avon leaning on one elbow, looking down at the child, not touching her – just staring. His eyes were hooded. "The sooner we’ll get rid of her, the better," he said, and Blake was not sure if he referred to the encumbrance the baby represented or some growing attachment Avon was trying to fight. The baby was lying against him, trustful as babies are and Blake noticed that Avon slept very still, in fear perhaps that he would crush her. Blake realized that the presence of the baby was probably a threat to Avon’s fragile equilibrium. Torn between the resentment he had felt from the very beginning and an unrequited surge of affection, Avon sometimes looked like a trapped animal. For him at least the day the Liberator reached the orbit of planet was a considerable relief. Avon wrapped the baby in a blanket and joined Blake on the teleport platform, silent and avoiding everyone’s look.

"Are you sure she can stand the teleportation?" he asked Cally.

"We checked. She will be fine. She won’t even need a bracelet. Just keep her close to you."

Avon glared at Vila whose incipient smile faded immediately but held the small body closer against him, looking down deep into the uncertain eyes and whispering something soothing. Blake came to stood beside him, a gun in hand.

"A pity we can’t have a picture of that," Vila said, shaking his head, once the trio had vanished. "Such a nice family the three of them are."

Jenna laughed. "Try tell Avon that!" Then she shook her head. "Anyway I’m glad it’s over. I miss action and these past months were awfully boring. I don't care much for babies," she said with a contemptuous smile.

-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:

Blake’s clone was waiting for them near a stone house in the sunshine. He looked very calm and absolutely like Blake, all inner strength and warm eyes. A wood surrounded the house, further were hills and the glittering sparkle of a river; the place had a quiet and happy feel about it. Avon went to the clone, and stared at him for a moment. "How must I call you?" Avon asked.

"Roj."

Avon nodded – it made sense. In the background Blake made himself as invisible as he could, unwilling to formally meet this unsettling copy of himself. He saw Avon hand over the small parcel and closed his eyes – it had to be done. Roj took it with extreme care, smiling at the sleeping baby. Blake saw the woman - Rashel - who had been standing some steps behind him watching the scene come closer and take her man’s arm to look at the baby. She smiled and asked something to Avon who shook his head. The clone – Roj – stretched out a hand, resting it on Avon’s arm. Avon frowned and seemed to think; then he spoke briefly and Roj looked down at the small figure cradled in his powerful arms. A blinding smile lit up his face as he repeated the word – a name. Avon had chosen a name, finally. Blake gritted his teeth, fighting the urge to step forward, grab the baby and Avon and leave – take what was his. But Avon turned and looked at him, his face strangely serene in the afternoon sun.

"We should go, I think," he said. "She has a family now." 

Blake nodded, his throat tight. Roj looked at him and smiled but he could not smile back, instead he looked at Avon who had joined him and said in a trembling voice, "Bring us up, Jenna."

The last thing he saw were the happy faces of his daughter’s parents; then he was back on the Liberator and Avon was near him. 

"Take us away as fast as possible," Avon said firmly. "No need to give the Federation a clue about this place."

Blake sat on the couch, unaware of his companions’ worried looks. As soon as he could he left the deck and went to his cabin, leaving the door open, waiting for Avon to walk past it and when he did, Blake called him. "You found a name," he said.

Avon turned and walked inside, closing the door behind him. "Roj wanted one. He said it was a thing only I could do."

Blake waited for more but nothing came. "Won’t you tell me her name, at least?"

Avon looked down. "Anna," he said. And Blake nodded. "It’s a fine name. But you had thought about it before, hadn’t you? Why... why didn’t you tell me?"

Their gazes met and Blake saw how tired and gaunt Avon looked. Rubbing his face with hands that shook slightly, Avon sighed. "I was afraid that if she had a name you would be unable to let her go," he said. "I almost was myself. It made her so much more real."

At that, all the grief in Blake’s heart exploded and he buried his head in his hands, sobbing quietly. He heard Avon get up, sigh and stop near him. Fingers brushed against Blake’s hair. "Don’t be ridiculous, Blake. She will be fine."

Before Avon walked out Blake asked, "I lost her. Did I lose you too?"

That stopped Avon short. Turning, he frowned, looking surprised. "You still want me, then? I thought it was only some way you had found to protect the baby," he said, and Blake noted that Avon still avoided using the child’s name.

Blake rose from the bed and joined Avon at the door. "You made a fine job of that yourself, although I suppose you hate hearing about it."

Avon rolled his eyes. "I need some sleep," he said and knowing that Blake would offer to share his bed, he added sternly, "Real sleep, alone in a bed – which is a luxury I was deprived of for almost nine months. Tomorrow, we’ll see if you are still as willing to have me."

The only thing Blake heard was that Avon had not said no. Actually he had nearly said yes, although probably this "Yes" would come among a litany of conditions that Blake was perfectly ready to agree to.

The thought kept him company in his sleep and when he woke up for his shift, he was smiling.


End file.
